The Lost Days of Mordred
by MythologicalDistance
Summary: Turning one last time, the boy's icy blue eyes meet Arthur's, seeming to look right into his very soul. "My name is Mordred."


Disclaimer: As much as I wish that I own little Mordred (and Asa Butterfield) tis not so.

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**The Lost Days of Mordred**

Arthur Pendragon stepped into the clearing opposite the waiting druids, the boy at his side. All cloaked, the druids looked strangely menacing, making Arthur all the more hesitant to hand the child back to his people. The moonlight cast an eerie glow on the glade, illuminating their faces. The eldest of the druids stood at the front, flanked by his two younger companions. His grey hair and wrinkles told a story of a long life filled with worry and stress, yet his eyes sparkled with a youth that spoke of a laughter and contentment that slowly helped Arthur relax.

With a slight push, Arthur gently prodded the young druid towards his elders. The boy willingly complied, walking obediently into the open arms of the aged druid. The man took the child's shoulders and turned him to face the crowned prince. "We are forever indebted to you Arthur Pendragon for returning the boy to us." Arthur jumped slightly as the druid broke the heavy silence that seemed to coat the woods. Usually Arthur wasn't one to be afraid of the dark, but this darkness seemed uncannily perilous.

Keeping his features perfectly school Arthur replied gravely, "You must not let it be known it was I who brought him to you." The druid nodded just as solemnly, his expression blank.

"We will tell no one, you have my word." With a polite smile the druids turned to depart, leaving Arthur staring at the back of the mysterious druid boy. Suddenly, Arthur had a sudden urge to know more about the strange child that everyone had risked their lives for. Before he could think it through, Arthur called out to the retreating figures.

"Wait, I don't even know your name!" The group reluctantly turned to look at the prince. "At least tell me your name."

The boy looked questioningly up at the elder, his face almost angelic in the luminescence. He nodded reassuringly, "It's alright." Turning one last time, the boy's icy blue eyes met Arthur's, seeming to look right into his very soul.

"My name is Mordred." The tension pressed on Arthur's chest making it rather hard to breath. Keeping his voice even, Arthur looked upon the boy for what he believed to be the last time.

"Good luck Mordred." The words seemed to echo through the dense forest, repeating themselves as if the wood was afraid Arthur may forget them. Mordred's face lit up in a smile, bobbing his head up and down, beauty and innocence radiated off him like an aura. The crowned prince smiled back, enamored by the young boy's strange purity, despite all the horrors the child had no doubt seen.

But for the slightest second the boy's smile slipped leaving a look so sinister Arthur almost recoiled. A cold swept into his bones, leaving him feeling helpless and feeble in its wake. Darkness seemed to gravitate towards the youth, surrounding him in a cloud of hate, fury and disgust.

Arthur blinked and it was gone, Mordred was still smiling and all appeared to be right with the world. With one final nod, the druids turned and quickly were lost to the fog, leaving Arthur once again alone feeling conflicted and confused.

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Arthur emerged from forest feeling reassured and slightly foolish from the whole ordeal. After thinking it over several times Arthur realized that he must have imagined the last moment. Not only was he the sole person to witness Mordred's so called _dark magic,_ but it also all occurred in a matter of seconds. It was physically impossible for something so bizarre to have happened so quickly without anyone else noticing. There is also the fact that Mordred is just a child. How dangerous could one little druid boy be?

Relieved to have found a suitable excuse to dissuade himself that the event ever happened, Arthur vowed to forget the entire meeting and the extraordinary druid, Mordred. Urging his majestic stallion forward, away from the forest, he felt himself slowly relaxing.

It was a beautiful night. The moon was at its fullest, surrounded by thousands of stars that each appeared to be twinkling extra bright. Now happily whistling a marching tune, Arthur spurred his horse back towards home, eager for a hot bath and a good night's rest.

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**Author's Note: **Hello everybody! This is a scene was from The Beginning of the End that I've been dying to write about as soon as I saw the episode. For right now this is to only be a one shot, but I may somehow come up with the inspiration to continue the story and write Mordred's life as a druid. I love constructive criticism so please let me know when you find a flaw in my writing (and there are probley a great many). Please Review!

-Opal


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